How To Make Lemonade
by RauraAndR5
Summary: These days, Ally's life hasn't been the easiest, or the happiest to say the least. She's ready to stop trying, and just take whatever life can throw at her and deal with it. That is, until she meets Austin, the charming guy at the coffee shop. And all he wants to do is teach her how to make lemonade. AU
1. Chapter 1

_How To Make Lemonade-_

_These days, Ally's life hasn't been the easiest, or the happiest to say the least. She's ready to quit, to just take whatever life can throw at her and deal with it. That is, until she meets Austin, the charming guy at the coffee shop. And all he wants to do is teach her how to make lemonade. AU_

**I know I said I wouldn't start anymore stories until I finished Green but you don't control me ok and obviously i lied what are you gonna do? sue me?**

**also, so i _dont_ get sued, i do not own the characters of the lovely tv show austin & ally**

* * *

Ally did not want to get up out of her warm, cozy bed. The still somewhat new mattress was comfortable and the blankets were soft and reflected most of her body heat back to her (she was a very cold person, okay?). Her bed was her safe haven, she felt like as long as she was in bed, her thoughts couldn't hurt her. This is the prime reason why she slept so much.

Sounds kind of silly huh? To be so scared of your own mind that you slept to face it? Yes, Ally is aware of how dumb this is. No, she does not care.

And on a kind-of-but-not-really related note, she didn't want to face reality. Getting up would mean having to _live_, and Ally wasn't sure how to do that anymore. It seems like when her mother, Penny Dawson, passed away she took her daughter's ability to do anything with her. Ally knew her mother wouldn't be around forever, she wasn't stupid. She knew that someday she was going to have to say goodbye.

She just never thought that day would come so soon.

Ally was only 21 years old, she wanted her mom to watch her do a lot of things. Like get married, her mom wouldn't be at her wedding. She wouldn't be the one to help her find "the dress", she wouldn't be there to see her try it on. She wouldn't be there to see her walk down the aisle with her father and stand before the man she would be with forever.

Of course, if Ally could trick some idiot into marrying her.

Her mom was her lifeline, her rock. Her best friend. Of course, she had Trish, but there are just certain things you talk to your mom about. You know?

But now she didn't have a mom. She would never feel her mom wrap her arms around her again, and her mom would never give her a kiss on the cheek when she left their house. She wouldn't be able to help her make her banana pies anymore. One day, Ally was happy. She had a good job that she managed to tolerate, she had a couple good friends, and her parents. These things made her life worth living. Especially her mom.

Once, when Ally was in 3rd grade, a girl told Ally she wasn't pretty. Ally believed her.

_She burst into their house in tears and her mom gathered her up in her arms, asking what was wrong. When Ally told her, she took her daughter into the bathroom and stood her in front of the mirror._

_She brushed Ally's hair until it was soft and silky and then kneeled down so they were eye-to-eye._

_"Ally, you're beautiful," her mother said, "that girl that said that to you was probably jealous."_

_"Jealous of what?" Ally asked._

_Careful not to degrade the other girl (because Penny would never teach her child that type of thing), she thought for a minute and finally said, "Because you have confidence. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she believes she's not pretty, and she wanted to make you feel the same way. Just be nice to her, make her feel good. In turn, she'll be nice to you."_

_"Our teacher told us about the golden rule," Ally said to her mother, "treat others how you wish to be treated."_

_"Exactly! Treat others with respect and you'll be respected, maybe not immediatly. But eventually she'll see that she can't hurt you and leave you alone."_

Ally know she will never forget that day. She took her mother's advice and complimented that little girl every single day. She was still mean, but 2 years later when they were on the playground in 5th grade, she walked up to Ally and apologized. Ally realized that all she had needed all along was a friend. That little girl is named Trish de la Rosa, and she's Ally's _best_ friend.

Alas, Ally does have to get up now. Her week off from work to grieve is over and she must return. Right now, she feels like she could throw herself out a 24 story window. It's not that she didn't like her job- oh wait, that's exactly it.

Saying she didn't like her job would be an understatement, but she couldn't afford to be picky. Jobs in Miami were getting hard to find, even Trish was having trouble getting new ones, which meant that she had to start learning how to do what she's asked and avoid getting fired. You see, Trish had a talent for getting new jobs and then getting fired from them in 2 days, tops. She'd been like that since kindergarten. She was still _good_ at it, but there just weren't any jobs available to gain and then lose anymore. She was currently working at the bookstore in the mall.

Ally waited for it, she waited for the sound that would tell her it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and get up to get ready for another day of working at her dad's music store.

Oh, dad. She'd have to see him today too. Ally knew he'd be torn up, even if he and Penny weren't married anymore, they were still important to one another.

_One step at a time,_ Ally told herself.

"Okay, Ally, you have to get out of bed now," she said quietly. And this is how it went all morning. Telling herself what to do, because otherwise she couldn't do it.

_"Eat your breakfast now, Ally."_

_"Brush your teeth now, Ally."_

_"Get dressed now, Ally."_

_"Brush your hair now, Ally."_

_"Lock the front door now, Ally."_

She felt so dumb doing this, but if she wanted to make it to work on time, there was no other option.

The work day went slowly and whenever she tried to remember anything that had happened that day, her mind would go blank. It was as if whatever part of her brain controlled her memory was still grieving and there wasn't much she could do about it. Of course, some things stuck out. Like when her dad was so out of it he knocked over a shelf of trumpets. Normally, Ally would've been upset because _she_ was the one who had to clean them up.

Today, she didn't care. She walked over to the shelf and kneeled down to gather the trumpets one by one and place them back in their place. She tried to be angry, because she knew that's what she was supposed to feel. But she felt nothing, no emotion at all.

She knew neither her nor her father were in any condition to be at work, but it's not like they had a choice. Being closed for a full week was bad for business. They couldn't make money if they weren't open.

Is this how the rest of her life would be? Feeling no emotion? Ally had to admit that to her, feeling nothing was better than hurting and longing for someone who couldn't come back.

Then again, if she couldn't feel anger, could she still feel love? Happiness? Would she just be a hollow shell forever? Her friends would say, "Remember when Ally was bright and full of smiles and laughs". Then they would talk about how empty she is.

When the day ended and the 'open' sign was switched to 'closed', Ally let out a sigh of relief. One more day closer to the weekend, when the part time girl would work and Ally could lay in her bed all day and cry some more.

When she got home, she unlocked the door to her house and tossed her things in a pile on the floor, something old Ally would never dream of doing. Old Ally would hang everything up where it belongs, because she hated messes.

New Ally went upstairs and sat down on the bed, she didn't know what else to do. She didn't want to watch TV or read a book. She just wanted to sleep. So she ignored the little voice in the back of her head telling her to "do something productive" and got under the covers. She couldn't fall asleep though, but she was happy to be back in her bed.

Ally could remember one of her favorite things about her mom was her smile. She could just smile and the whole world would light up. Saying she was Ally's sun would be an understatement, but that's the only way to put it.

She also loved her ability to cook. Her mom was an awful cook, honestly. But Penny already knew that, so it was okay to think it. Ally loved this about her because her father would spend countless nights in the kitchen trying to teach her to make dinner. They would laugh and smile as she messed up every single night, and Ally would sit at the table and laugh too. Their kitchen was always like that, full of happiness and warmth.

Ally still doesn't understand why they divorced, they never argued or seemed to show any dislike towards one another. The thought dawned on Ally that maybe it was her fault? At the time of the divorce, people kept reminding her that it wasn't her fault, so she believed them. But had they been lying? Was her mom tired of Ally? Is that why she wanted Ally to stay with her father? She'd overheard her parents say that Penny's pregnancy wasn't planned, and they weren't ready for a baby. Had her mom never wanted a child? Did Ally ruin her parents relationship?

She threw the covers off of herself and jumped out of bed, pacing around the room at an inhumanly fast rate. Her breath was shallow and ragged and she had to know. She had to know if it was her fault, and if her mom really loved her. But there was no way to know, because her mom wasn't here anymore.

Then the thought hit Ally like a truck, it came out of nowhere... the funeral. It was tomorrow.

* * *

**Why are the first chapters of my stories always so short?**

**This chapter originally had a different ending, but I decided to save that part for later because Ally and Austin meeting doesn't need to happen right now. At the moment it's about Ally dealing (or at least attempting to deal) with her mom's death, how she feels, what she thinks. **

**Anyway, I hope you're excited about this story. I know Green (sad faces) will be ending soon and I wanted to give myself something to work on. No, I'm not done with The Best Times To Kiss A Girl or 26 Things I Love About You, those are side projects.**

**Okay and good bye. **


	2. Chapter 2

**i am enjoying this story, and i promise i'll work on Green soon ok**

* * *

The day of the funeral, it rains. As if Ally needs more of a reason to want to go home and lay in bed forever. Normally she loves the rain, thought it was beautiful. Today it just seems gloomy, it reminds her of all the tears shed these past couple days. All she could see in the rain today was the negatives. Although she felt that maybe this was appropriate weather, she would've been a little frustrated if she was grieving over her mother and the sun was shining, bright as can be. Call her selfish, but she was satisfied knowing that this rain had ruined someone -somewhere in the world's- plans. Her mother had just died, she let herself be a little selfish at the moment.

She was staring out the window of the church, trying to focus on the raindrops and not the bullshit coming out of the lady at the front of the room's mouth. That lady was named Candace, and she was friends with her mom for 8 months and had the nerve to get up there and talk about her as if they were family, claiming they were best friends. That Candace knew her better than anyone.

Absolute bullshit.

Ally knows that listening to a word of the constant lies spewing from Candace's mouth would cause her blood to boil, her grief counselor told her that she might suffer from a few mood swings for the next few weeks. One of the more frequent emotions she felt lately was anger. Angry at what? Ally wasn't sure, but she was pissed 75% of the time.

"Ally," Trish nudges her. Ally sighs, turning away from the window.

"What?"

"They want you to say a few words," Trish tells her in a hushed tone. Candace is heading back to her seat and everyone has turned their tear stricken faces to her. This is strange considering her father is supposed to give a speech, not Ally.

"But my dad-" Ally doesn't even get to finish her sentence because Trish subtly jerks her head in the direction of her father. Ally turns to look at him, he's sobbing quietly, bent over in his chair with his face pressed in his knees. He's in no condition to give a speech.

"O-okay," Ally nods. She stands to smooth out her black dress and starts for the podium. She avoids her mother's cold, lifeless body in the casket and tries to find someone she trusts in the audience.

Upon finding out Ally had stage fright, a teacher had once advised her to find one trustworthy person in the audience and act like they were having a normal conversation. Her go-to person would've been her father, but he wasn't exactly a symbol of strength at the moment and doubled over the way he was all she could see of him was his retching body as his muffled sobs filled the quiet room. She surveys everyone before her, most of them had trails of tears running down their face. And then there was her. She probably looks so heartless, standing strong and seemingly unaffected at her own mother's funeral. But she doesn't cry in front of people, because crying would mean you were weak. And Ally would never allow herself to appear weak, even if her insides were caving in and she was coming apart at the seams. Crying was for private time.

She finds Trish's sad eyes and lets out a sigh.

"Um, my mother was..." Ally trails off, "an amazing person. I think everyone here can agree with that.

"She's actually the reason I have one of the most important people in my life," she gives Trish a small smile that she hopes passes for 'poor grieving daughter'.

"She always gave the best advice, always knew the right thing to say," Ally tries to speak with passion. Like she actually means what she's saying, it feels and sounds like she's reading from a script.

"You know, I bet half of the people in this room couldn't even tell me what her favorite book even was," Ally scoffs. Several eyes in the audience widen, it seems that they know where this is going.

"So many of you didn't even /know/ her, the real Penny Dawson," she continues.

"You all see her as a friend, a neighbor, a coworker. But she was my mom, the person in the world who knew me best. And Candace?" she looks for the familiar woman among the horrified sea of faces.

"You say you were my mom's best friend? I wish she had known what a bitch you always were to me," Ally spits. Several people gasps, and even her father is staring at her with bloodshot eyes, wiping a trail of snot from his nose.

"And I swear to God if one more person comes up to me, hugs me, and says 'its going to be okay' I'm going to commit a felony. How can you look me in the eye and promise that it will be okay?

"In case you're too stupid to realize, it's never going to be okay," Ally chokes back a sob. She won't cry here, she won't.

"May Penny Dawson rest in peace, I love you so much, mom," Ally swallowa hard, wishing that lump in her throat would go away. She storms down between the two rows of pews and shoves the heavy doors open, plowing into the heavy rain.

She doesn't know where to go, but she runs through the courtyard and down the trail to the main road. Her dress is soaked and her hair sticks to her face and neck like a sopping wet curtain, but she won't stop running.

The first place she sees that she could take refugee is a small coffee shop. She bursts through the doors, a little bell jingles, disturbing the silence. The place was empty of customers other than a girl reading a book in the corner and a teenage boy near the front on his laptop. Neither of them glance up, but the boy behind the counter is staring wide eyed at the strange girl standing before him in a soaking wet black dress.

"Tell me you have a bathroom," Ally says. The boy moves from his post behind the counter to cautiously approach her.

"It's this way, I'll show you," he gestures for her to follow him and they walk to the back of the store, where he pushes open a door, which reveals stairs descending down into a poorly lit basement. Ally takes a step back and eyes him suspiciously.

"Look, weird girl who appeared suddenly out of the rain, if you think I'm going to kill you, you're insane," he sighs, she rolls her eyes and follows him down the stairs. He swings a set of keys around his finger as he leads the way, "I would never risk going back to prison."

She stops immediately, "what?" And suddenly the exit seems too far away.

"That was a joke, relax," he laughs. She grumbles some un-ladylike phrases under her breath but follows him further down the corridor. They stop at a dirty door, which she assumes was once white.

"Do you think you'd be able to find your way back up if I went back to the counter?" he asks.

Ally sighs quietly, she hadn't been paying attention to where they were going and god only knows what kind of trouble she'd get herself into if she got lost down here. She musters up her most pitiful look and turns to him, "would you mind staying right here?"

"Course not," he shrugs, leaning casually against a large box. The dim lighting makes his blonde hair appear to be a dirty dishwater color, and his hazel eyes are teasing and playful. She swears she can see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He was actually quite attractive, and she could only imagine she must look like she's been to hell and back.

"Okay, I'd hate to ask more of you... but do you have a towel I could try and dry myself with?" Ally suddenly feels cold and vulnerable in this rained on dress with it's stupid fancy corset.

"I got you, don't worry," he gives her a nod and disappears into a small room nearby. She takes a moment to look around the basement. Covered in boxes marked with different flavors of coffee and tea. He appears again with a pink, blue, and gray towel.

"Here," he grins. She takes the towel and slips into the bathroom. The light in here doesn't work much better than the light in the hall, but she can clearly see that the towel isn't just a towel. Yes, the stack of fabric includs a pink towel, but also gray sweatpants and a blue hoodie that says "Moon" across the back. She doesn't question it too much, mostly because she swears the temperature is dropping by the second.

She slips the dress off and towel dries herself. Then she kicks off her boots, and thankfully her socks are dry enough to wear. Then pulls the sweatpants and hoodie on in it's place. They felt warm and soft against her cold, damp skin.

Ally gathers her wet dress and holds it at arms length. When she opens the door, the boy is grinning ear to ear.

"I'll take that, we can dry it for you," he says, draping the dress over one arm, "I'm Austin by the way. Austin Moon."

Aha, Moon.

"So this is your hoodie?" she asks, following him back the way they came in her sock feet.

"Sure is, although it looks better on you," he winks. She scoffs.

"Thanks for letting me borrow it while my dress dries," Ally nods, "I'm Ally Dawson."

"You wouldn't happen to be related to that woman in the obituary this week? What was her name... Pam?"

"Penny."

"Yeah, her."

"She was my mom."

"Oh," Austin says, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing you should apologize for," she shrugs.

"Yeah well..." he trails off, now the only silence are her light footsteps and his heavier ones on the concrete. They come to a washer and drier and he tosses her dress in and presses some buttons.

"So I assume by the dress you were coming from the funeral?" Austin's voice isn't playful anymore, it's more hesitant.

"Yeah but it's a long story," Ally shakes her head. Really she's not ready to talk about what just happened, especially not to this strange boy she just met.

"That's okay, I understand," he nods. They headed back up the stairs and he returns to the counter while she sits at a table in the back. Nothing has changed, the two customers are still exactly where they left them.

After a while Austin abandons the counter again and brings over a steaming cup of something and a muffin. He sets them down in front of her but she just sighs.

"I don't have any money," she tells him. She left her purse on her seat beside Trish.

"It's on the house," he gives her a smile, which she doesn't return. She doesn't exactly feel like smiling.

"Wanna sit?" she asks. It's not that she wants to talk to him, but she doesn't want to feel alone. He shrugs and scoots into the both across from her. She's still trying to figure it why he's done so many unnecessary favors for her, but she's grateful.

"So that weather..." Austin chuckles dryly.

"Don't try and make conversation," Ally shakes her head.

"Got it," he nods. So they just sit and stare at each-other while she takes quiet sips of the hot chocolate he brought her.

She looks at him, /really/ looks at him. His eyes, with their little flecks of gold. His lips, which could use a little chapstick to be completely honest, but it's winter so she'll cut him some slack. His nose, with a little faded freckle near his left eye. He's attractive, if she weren't so upset right now she'd probably feel self conscious.

And he looks at her. She's strange, to say the least. And he can't seem to charm her, which is even stranger. He blames it on the fact that she's recently had to say goodbye to her mom. Her hair is nice, brown near the top and caramel colored towards the ends. There's probably some fancy name for it, his mom would know.

Her eyes are red, like she's been crying recently. He looks at her lips, which she's chewing on profusely. He notices she does this when she seems on edge. Austin remembers how when he opened the door to the basement and she backed away, her lips made a tiny 'o'. She's cute.

"So, um..." she clears her throat and he's really hoping she doesn't start crying. That's the last thing he needs. Austin Moon does not do crying girls.

"What do you do for fun?" he asks.

She doesn't even have to think about it, "music," she says immediately. "I like music."

"Me too," he grins. But she still doesn't smile back. She hasn't smiled since she's been here. He once again blames it on the funeral.

She nods awkwardly.

"Wanna play a game?" he taps his fingers on the table.

"Not really."

"C'mon! 21 Questions?"

She sighs, "fine."

"Awesome," he claps his hands together once and says, "I'll go first-"

"You got to pick the game," she protests, crossing her arms.

"Fair enough, you go first."

"Why aren't there many customers here?"

"Because there's a Starbucks two blocks from here," he replies with a chuckle. The corners of her lips tilt upwards, it's not really a smile, but it's a start.

"My turn," he sighs. "What's your favorite food?"

"Pickles," she replies.

"Pickles? Gross," he shakes his head, outwardly expressing his disapproval.

"I happen to love them," she rolls her eyes. "What's yours?"

"Pancakes are where it's at," he replies proudly.

"Waffles are way better," she says, bringing her drink to her lips.

"Can I have a sip of that?" He asks.

She shrugs, "I guess."

He grabs a straw and drops it in, taking a big slurp of the lukewarm chocolate. He turns away from her and spits it out dramatically, "WAFFLES? PANCAKES RULE THE BREAKFAST WORLD!" He exclaims, then he turns back to her. She's got her elbows on the table and her head in her hands and she's laughing. He made her laugh, so he laughs too.

The two customers turn to look at them, sitting in the booth at the very back of the shop laughing quite loudly.

"My turn," he says, catching his breath. "Okay, how could you possibly like waffles more than pancakes?"

"They have the convenient little pockets that hold your syrup, which makes breakfast simpler."

"But pancakes are soft and so easy to make and they're Jesus reincarnated into food, I'm telling you," he tells her.

"I don't think so," she shakes her head.

"I believe it's my question, so do you have any siblings?" He asks, wiping some hot chocolate from under his mouth.

"Nope, only child. Do you have any siblings?"

"I'm the only offspring of Mike and Mimi Moon," he replies. "How awesome is Christmas?"

"It's okay, but I think it's a little too much sometimes," she shrugs.

"You're crazy, Christmas is great every year," he shakes his head.

"Really? Well then my next question is going to have to be what's your favorite holiday tradition?"

"Decorating the tree," he grins. "When I was little, we never bought ornaments. My mom invited all the kids she knew over to our house and we made them," he recalls, "they weren't very pretty, but they were original."

"That's adorable," she says. Her family never really got into the Christmas spirt. They put up a tree, tossed some ornaments on, and called it a day. Never anything monumental.

"So what are you doing for Christmas?" he asks finally.

"I dunno, my family is probably still going to be all torn up over my mom, so we might just say fuck it and not even celebrate," Ally shrugs.

"That really sucks, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry for my loss, yeah I know. That's all anyone ever says to me. And the pity is endless. I'm pretty sure I have enough sympathy casserole in my kitchen to end world hunger," she says bitterly.

"Why do people think casserole will solve everyone's problems?" he says, half jokingly.

"Let me know if you figure that out," she sighs. "So what are you doing for Christmas?"

"Working, unfortunately," he tells her.

"What? Why?"

"Well someone has to do it," he explains, "and they determine who by seniority. I've worked here the shortest amount of time, therefore I work Christmas this year."

"Why don't they just close up? I mean, no offense, but this doesn't exactly seem like a social hotspot," she glances around. One customer left sometime, and the guy remained at his table.

"Because my boss doesn't have a family, no friends," Austin shrugs, "I guess he figures if his Christmas is going to suck he might as well ruin someone else's too."

"Scrooge," she coughs under her breath.

"You can say that again," he mumbles. "I believe it's my question. What's your biggest dream?"

She takes a minute to think, "I guess I'd like to be a songwriter, I mean I'm not too bad and if I ever get over my stage fright I could preform them."

"You write songs?" he asks excitedly.

"Yeah," she nods.

"You wouldn't happen to have any with you?" he's getting more excited by the second.

"Sorry," she shakes her head, "maybe another day."

"Alright, your question," he says.

"So what's your favorite thing to do?"

"I like to sing, play music," he answers, "the thing is I don't have any original music."

"So that's why you wanted to see my songs?" she asks.

"Well yeah, or maybe you could give me some songwriting tips?" he suggests.

"Write from your heart, and it doesn't always have to rhyme," she says.

"Good advice. So why did you stumble in here soaking wet? I mean I guess you wouldn't normally walk through the pouring rain for a cup of overpriced coffee, especially after a funeral."

"Um... I didn't want to see my mom lowered into the ground," she lies. It's at least kind of true, thinking about her mother buried under the cold ground forever made her uneasy.

"Understandable, your question."

"So what was your first kiss like?"

"Awkward. Neither of us had a clue what to do," he answers with a shudder. "How about you?"

"Innocent, just a little peck," she replies. "Why have you done so many nice things for me?"

"Because," he sighs, "I just felt like it was the right thing to do. Just being a good person."

"Oh," she sighs. He's getting more attractive with every word that comes out of his mouth.

"What was your mom like?"

"Austin, I just met you, no offense but I think that's a little personal," she points out.

"Oh right, sorry," he let's out a dry chuckle.

"It's okay. What's your favorite thing about yourself?"

"Well," he pauses, "I guess I'm a decent performer. I'd like to think I have a nice stage presence."

"I'd love to see you perform sometime," she smiles.

"That'd be awesome," he returns the smile. "What's your least favorite thing about yourself?"

"Uh," she clears her throat, "I tend to come across guarded, maybe even rude."

"Guarded, yes. Rude, no. I'd peg you as shy,"

"Interesting. Whose question?" she drinks the rest of the cocoa and sets the cup down.

"Yours."

"Hmm... what's your goal?" You know, in life?"

"To just be happy. That's all I want."

Wow he's hot.

"I'd have to agree with you on that, Mr. Moon. Happiness is important."

"Indeed. My question?"

"Yep."

"What's your favorite childhood memory?" he leans back against the booth.

"It'd have to be... hm," she let her eyes wander around the room, "before my parents got divorced, we used to go to this cabin every winter. It was drafty and leaky, and my mom was always asking when we could leave. But because it was so drafty we'd have to snuggle around our little portable heater. I used to love it."

"You don't go anymore?"

"After my parents separated we just stopped. I haven't been back there since," she explains.

"That sounds amazing," he says in awe.

"That's one of the few memories I have of us as a happy family, together," she sighs.

"Well... um, your question."

"What makes you most uncomfortable?"

"Probably being laughed at," he replies, "especially if I don't know why people are laughing."

"I can definitely relate," she agrees, "then I just wonder what's wrong with me. If it's something I've done or something I'm wearing. It's just stressful."

"Exactly! My question?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, hm... best day of your life?"

"Easy. When my mom took me and my best friend shopping and then for ice cream," she says.

"Your turn," he watches as the last customer gets annoyed by their conversation and gets up to leave.

"Uh, what's your middle name?"

"Haha... let's skip that," he, laughs nervously.

"What why? Is it something weird?" she gives him a look.

"Nevermind that," he shakes his head. "So what's your best friend's name?"

"Her name is Trish. What's your best friend like?"

"He's a little wacky," Austin says.

"His name...?"

"Dez."

"That's an interesting name."

"Trust me, it fits him perfectly," Austin promises. "So how'd you meet Trish?"

"Well in third grade she called me ugly, and my mom basically told me to kill her with kindness. She never talked to me again but I was always nice to her, one day in fifth grade she came up to me and apologized. We got to know each other and I found out her parents were getting divorced and she just needed a friend to lean on," Ally tells him, "she's been my other half ever since."

"That makes my story look lame. I met Dez at an arcade," Austin laughs.

"That's cool too. My question, right?"

"Yes."

"If you could go anywhere, where would it be and would you come home?" she asks.

"Ah, a fresh new twist on a classic question," he nods his approval, "I'd go to Mexico, and yes I would come home."

"I was expecting you to say something typical. Like Paris or Hawaii. Heck, maybe even London," she admits.

"Yeah, well I'm not a typical guy," he jokes. "My next question is where is the place you're happiest?"

"That's a tough one actually," she crosses her arms, "somewhere quiet. When I imagine my happy place, it's near water. But not a beach, something calm. A cool lake, maybe a waterfall. And there's music, I don't know where it's coming from... but it's there."

"Wow, that sounds like an amazing place, can I change my "where would you go" answer to that?"

"Haha funny," she rolls her eyes. "My question is... what three things can't you live without?"

"Music, food, and family," he replies quickly, "didn't even have to think about that one."

"Wow," she mumbles.

"So what's your favorite movie?"

"Have you ever seen Tangled?"she suddenly gets excited.

"Um... I don't think I have," he shrugs.

"It's adorable," she says. "What was your favorite grade in school?"

"Probably 6th, because that's when my teacher was super hot," he says half jokingly.

"You're an idiot," she rolls her eyes again. A beep comes from the drier below.

"Let's go get your dress," he stands up. On the way down the stairs he asks his next question, "Favorite music artist?"

"I adore One Republic and All Time Low, but you know Adrian Hood is cool."

"I'm a huge One Republic fan, we have more in common than I thought," he chuckles. They hit the concrete and start down the corridor towards the washer and drier.

"My next question is when did you stop believing in Santa?" she catches up to him and realizes she actually has to look up to him, "you're tall."

"You're tiny," he gives her a charming smile and then focuses back on the dim basement. "And maybe I still believe in Santa."

"Oh God you're a man child," she mutters.

"I heard that, Miss Ally Dawson."

"Good."

"This is my 17th question I believe, best prank you've ever pulled?"

"Do I really seem like much of a prank person?"

"Well... no."

"Okay then."

"Come on," he scoffs, "you've never even pulled one tiny prank?"

"I switched around the letters on my dad's keyboard once," she shrugged, "needless to day he was confused."

"That's the spirit!"

"This is my 18th question right?" she asks as he leans down to get the dress from the washer.

"I believe so," he nods.

"Do you play any instruments?" she watches him grab her dress and close the drier. He stands back up and once again towers over her.

"Pretty much everything," he shrugs, "guitar and piano mainly. But hand me some drumsticks and I'm set. I can even play a trumpet through another trumpet!"

"Now that's something I'd like to see," she mumbles, "my dad owns a music store."

"What's it called? There's this one in the mall I go to sometimes."

"Sonic Boom," she answers as they start back upstairs.

"Wait... you're the cute girl who works at the music store?"

"I gue-"

"How did I not see this before? I knew you looked familiar!"

"Your question," she reminds him.

"Hmm... best present you've ever received?"

"My mom bought me concert tickets to see The Beatles once," she answers, "I may have cried a little."

"You're a Beatles fan huh?"

"Yep," she nods.

"Fascinating. Your question."

"Are you a spender or a saver? Like with money."

"Spender for life, I can't save a dime," he replies proudly.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Alright my question. What's your zodiac sign?"

"Pisces."

"Mhm... your turn."

"What made you wanna ?"

"Eh," he shrugs as they reach the door, "it's close to home and it gives me an excuse not to work at my parents' "mattress kingdom" and both of those are good enough reasons for me."

"Your parents own Moon's Mattress Kingdom don't they?" she smiles.

"Sadly," he sighs.

"I should get going," she starts for the door.

"You got to ask your 20th question, I only got 19," he protests.

"Alright, one more," she stops half way in the middle of opening the doors.

He reaches into a basket beside the door, "wish I could drive you home but my shift isn't over. All I can give you is this," he hands her an umbrella. The rain seems to be letting up anyways.

"Thanks. But what's your 20th question?"

"Do you believe in love?" he asks.

"Eh," she shrugs and gives a small smile. Then she opens up the umbrella and disappears in the rain.

"But my 21st question..." he mumbles, though it's useless.

"Always leave them wanting more," her mom had said. And she did. She left Austin standing in the doorway wondering when he would get to see Ally Dawson again.

* * *

**so austin and ally have met... this is where things get fun**


End file.
